


When You're Strange

by ivanna



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanna/pseuds/ivanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The head injury makes Vin do strange things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You're Strange

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Tarlan for beta reading.

Team 7 surrounded the warehouse where the shipment of firearms had just been delivered. All they had to do now was burst inside and arrest – or shoot down – the dealers. Routine job, but Vin was nervous. Only a couple of weeks had passed since he joined Team 7 and he still felt a bit uneasy working in a team. He was a loner who had relied only on himself. He knew he was good at what he was doing and he knew he could take care of himself, so it was a bit hard to take down his guard and let others watch his back. Hard with others – but not with Chris. With Chris his trust was complete at first sight. Vin glanced at the team leader standing next to him and sighed. Aw hell, he had to think about the op and not about Chris if he wanted to see another day. 

“Ready?” Chris’ voice sounded in his ear.

Vin waited until the other members of Team 7 reported and only then confirmed his readiness. Chris paused for a few moments making sure nothing was missed and then he gave the order to attack.

They burst inside the warehouse with the deafening shout “ATF! Freeze!” Some of the bad guys froze, some opened fire, and for a while all Vin’s thoughts were occupied by the gunfire. He fired and reloaded, keeping his eye on the bad guys and his teammates, until all the targets were down and he heard Chris’ order, “Here is clear, check out the back area.”

With his SIG at the ready he went down the aisle at the back of the warehouse. Flickering shadows got his attention and he turned quickly – but not quickly enough. Something hit his head hard and he fell down seeing darkness thicken before his eyes. He blinked to clear his vision and raised his gun to shoot the man who had attacked him, but another shot rang and the man fell down on the cement floor next to him. 

Vin blinked again and recognized the man approaching him – Nathan.

“Are you okay, Vin?” he said kneeling before him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Let me see your head.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, he hit me with the butt of his gun but not with a bullet.”

“Head injury is very tricky.”

“I’m fine, Nathan, really.”

Nathan wasn’t convinced but ceased to insist. He straightened and helped Vin to get back on his feet. 

An hour later the op was over: crates of weapons were collected in the ATF storage, surviving bad guys were taken away by the Police, the dead bad guys – taken away by the Coroners, and Team 7 returned into their bullpen to complete the paperwork. As soon as Vin sat at his desk and switched on his PC, Chris called him into his office.

“Nathan said you got hit on the head. You should see a doctor,” Chris said when he entered.

“Aw hell, Chris, it’s just a bruise, nothing serious.”

Chris stared into his eyes, and Vin met his gaze. Chris nodded. “Fine. Tell me if you feel something wrong.”

Vin rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

He returned to his desk and started to type out his report, ignoring the throbbing headache. It wasn’t the first time he had hit his head, he had suffered more serious injuries in the past, so he decided it was nothing to worry about. He needed just a sleep, and in the morning everything would be fine. 

7777777

The weird headache woke Vin. Or he woke first and then the headache struck his head almost smashing it into pieces – he wasn't sure, the only thing he knew was that his head hurt badly; worse than he had ever experienced before. He opened his eyes slightly, fearing that sunlight would make things worse, but to his surprise the bedroom was dimmed. Was it still night or was something wrong with his eyes? He opened his eyes fully, but it didn't help him to figure out this mystery. Slowly, he sat up in bed. As he suspected, the headache became worse, and he wrapped his hands around his head, really expecting it would explode. He sat still for a while, trying to get used to the pain, and when he managed to do it, an odd sound got his attention – a sound of running water. 

"What the hell?" he muttered.

He lived alone here and he wasn't in the shower, he was in bed. Maybe, it was tinnitus? Or rain? Yeah, right, it was the rain, and that was why the room was dimmed. Rain was so rare in Texas so it was no wonder he didn't recognize it when heard it. Texas? Stop. This place didn't look like his apartment in Dallas. He lowered his hands and surveyed the room. It looked strange. Everything was strange – the room, the rain, his own body.

_Faces come out of the rain  
When you're strange _

What the hell was it? He had gone mad and was hearing voices in his head? No, wait, it was a song, he heard yesterday on the radio. Yesterday? What day was today? Aw hell, no matter. What really mattered – he was going to be sick. He threw aside the sheets and slipped out of the bed. The world swayed and for a brief moment he was sure he had ended up on the floor, but he managed to stay on his feet and hurried to the bathroom before the nausea overwhelmed him. 

He splashed cold water onto his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. 

_Faces come out of the rain  
When you're strange _

He saw his face beneath the sheet of water droplets, but it looked strange. He raised one hand and touched the dark bruise covered the left side of his face and head. He examined it with his fingertips, and despite his intentions to be gentle the pain exploded in his head with renewed force when he touched the lump beneath his hair. He exhaled a sob and sank down onto the floor, putting his throbbing head on the cold tiles. 

_Faces look ugly when you're alone_

His own face definitely was ugly. And he definitely was alone. His buddy Joe was killed yesterday, his unit was ambushed, the sergeant had told him. No wait, that was a long time ago. What day was today? Or, for that matter, what year was today? He hadn't thought of Joe in years, Joe wasn't even his real buddy, he just felt himself less of a stranger with him. 

_People are strange when you're a stranger_

But why did he feel that he wasn't a stranger anymore? Something was slipping from his mind, something important. He moaned and squeezed his head with his hands, carefully avoiding the sore area. What the hell was wrong with him, why did he see his life shattered into pieces with some important pieces missing? He didn't want to remember the faces of people who were long gone, who left no trace in his life. Or was he the one who always ran away first before their life or death could leave any trace and affect him? 

_Women seem wicked when you're unwanted_

Charlotte had wanted him, but only as a toy in her bed. She was his first and, he suspected, last woman. If he could run away from her again, he would do it – but this time much faster. Why the hell had he dated her in the first place? He had never loved her, damn, he had never even considered her as attractive. He was really surprised by her anger when he broke up with her. She didn’t love him, either, just used him. He was unwanted by her and everybody else in his life.

"Vin!"

The shout sounded like a shot, startling Vin.

"Vin, where are you?"

Someone paced his apartment back and forth, then footsteps stopped at the bathroom door.

"Vin? What are you doing here? Are you sick?"

Vin opened his eyes and stared at the dark silhouette in the doorway. He hadn't turned on the light in the bathroom before entering, but his damaged mind recognized the man even in semidarkness. 

"I'm fine, Chris."

"So fine that you're lying on the floor in the bathroom?"

Vin sat up, leaning back against the cabinet under the sink. "It's strange, isn’t it?" 

"You aren't strange, you're hurt and going with me."

"People are strange when you're a stranger. Faces look ugly when you're alone…"

"Vin, stop singing!"

"You told me you like my voice."

"Your voice – yes, but you can't sing."

"Many people can't shoot, but that never stop them, right?"

"Vin…"

"Women seem wicked when you're unwanted. Streets are uneven when you're down…"

"Damn, you're scaring me. I'm calling an ambulance."

"No! I hate hospitals!"

"Better to be uncomfortable in a hospital than dead here."

"No, Chris, please, I'm fine, just my head hurt a bit. All I need is Tylenol or some shit like it."

"Do you have any pills here?"

Vin pondered the question. How the hell could he know if he had any pills in this place if he didn't know where he was? He couldn't remember much from his recent life, but he remembered Chris. That was strange. 

"Vin?"

Vin nodded carefully. "Yeah. They're somewhere. Look in the cabinets."

"Fine. Let me help you get back in bed, and then I bring them to you. But if you get any worse, I'll call that ambulance."

Chris embraced Vin's shoulders and helped him up, but Vin's legs didn't want to cooperate and gave way. Cursing through clenched teeth, Chris took him in his arms and carried to the bed. As soon as Vin's head hit the pillow, he fell asleep.

7777777

The first thing Vin saw when he woke was a ‘Beretta’ lying on the nightstand. He blinked, but the vision didn't disappear, and he puzzled over where the hell the gun had come from. He had never kept a ‘Beretta’, and the only man he knew who used a gun like this one was Chris. He frowned wishing his head hurt less and his mind wasn’t so fogged; it was almost impossible to think. If Chris’ gun was here, then Chris should be here, too, right? But that was weird, why would Chris be here in his ugly apartment? Chris had a lot of much better things to do and much nicer people to spend his time with. Perhaps his headache was making him see things and the ‘Beretta’ was a hallucination caused by his desire to have Chris beside him. Aw hell, he sounded almost like a shrink, and judging by the way his mind behaved, he really should visit one. This thought scared him. He was fine, just his head hurt and he wanted to have Chris beside him so badly. 

_What ever happened to the young man's heart  
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart _

Fine, again the voices in his head. Why did he think about a shrink a moment ago? 

He stretched his hand out to the nightstand and almost cried out when his fingers touched the cold steel of the gun. He grabbed the ‘Beretta’ and brought it to his face, forcing himself to realize that it was real. That really was a part of Chris. With his heart pounding in his chest, he felt dizziness in addition to his headache. He cursed, angry with himself. What had happened to him, how could he be so stupid? He had always ran away from any relationship, and for what? For falling in love with Chris Larabee, who sure as hell didn’t need any relationships, especially with a semiliterate and penniless Texan? The sound vaguely reminiscent of laughter escaped his chest. Now was too late to think about the way his life had changed after meeting Chris. He could do nothing to turn things back. 

The front door opened and closed, and the next moment Chris appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. 

“Are you up? Why are you staring at my gun?”

“No real reason to accept the way things have changed, Staring down the barrel of a 45…”

“Oh no. No singing again!”

In two long steps Chris was near the bed holding out a couple of pills on his palm. “Take it and shut up before your neighbors call the Cops.” 

“You’re really a sweetheart. What is this shit?” 

“Tylenol, bought it at the drugstore on the corner. You have nothing useful in your place.”

Chris took the gun from his hands and replaced it with a glass of water. Wincing, Vin swallowed the pills. Chris sat on the edge of the bed and carefully parted Vin’s hair, examining the lump. 

“Looks pretty bed. I need to send you to a hospital despite your arguments.”

“It’s just a bruise.”

“Thought so yesterday, but today you can’t focus your eyes and your behavior is so strange…”

“Feel myself strange, too.”

“I noticed, you sang about it.”

“Why are you here with me?”

“You never appeared at work or answered calls, so I got worried.”

No one had ever worried about him before. Funny that Chris was the first, but the fact that Chris had worried about him didn’t change the fact that Chris could break his heart if he entrusted it to him. On the other hand, Chris would break his heart in any case, just because Chris was Chris. Damn bastard who lived by his own rules. Vin lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. 

“In these times of doing what you're told, Keep these feelings, no one knows…”

Vin even didn’t realize he said it aloud, following the voice in his head until Chris asked him quietly, “What feelings, Vin?”

“What?”

“What feelings are you talking about?” 

“Nevermind. It’s just… reckon, I love you.”

He drifted asleep and never felt the gently stroking of Chris’ fingers on his cheek and the soft kiss of Chris’ lips.

7777777

Vin stretched and yawned enjoying the aftermath of sleep, then frowned when he realized that his head didn’t hurt anymore, or rather it hurt but far less than it had over the the last day. Or days? He didn’t remember how long he was out of his mind. He fingered carefully the left side of his head and was pleased when the pain didn’t explode inside his brains. He opened his eyes and was pleased even more as the world around wasn’t gray and swaying anymore. His good mood was spoiled when he cast a look on the clock on the nightstand – it read 9 a.m. He had overslept. Cursing, he got up, but stilled immediately when he heard a sound coming from the kitchen. Definitely someone was there, but he knew no reason why anybody would be in his kitchen or any other part of his apartment. Stepping as silently as possible, he headed there and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Chris standing before the stove. 

“Chris?”

Chris jerked, startled by the voice behind his back. “Damn, Vin, quit moving like a fucking ghost!”

“Sorry. What are you doing here?”

Chris turned to him and peered at his face. “You look awful but better than you did yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Do you mean you were here yesterday, too?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

It seemed to Vin that his answer saddened Chris.

“You remember absolutely nothing?”

“Some piece of dreams and nightmares. Not sure any of it was real.”

Chris nodded and turned back to the store, stirring something in the pot. Vin walked to the table and lowered himself onto the stool. Chris’ behavior made him curious. 

“What did I do?”

“A lot of things. At first, you sang.”

“What?! I never sing, even in the shower!”

“That’s good, because your singing is worse than your harmonica playing.”

Vin felt himself flushing. “What else?”

“You decided the bathroom floor was better than the bed and regularly tried to fall asleep there.”

“You took me back to bed?”

Chris nodded. 

“Damn. Reckon I hit my head pretty hard.”

“Reckon.”

Chris poured a mug of coffee and placed it on the table before Vin. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Not sure I can eat.”

“Are you sick again?”

“No, just dizzy.”

“Then you’ll try.”

Vin made a sip of coffee. It felt good. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“Didn’t think it was a good idea to leave you here at your own. Have my laptop with me, so I managed to finish all the accumulated paperwork.” 

Vin stared at his fingers clutching a mug and mumbled awkwardly, “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“I wish you'd remember more from last night,” Chris said quietly. 

END

_Songs used in the story:_  
 _The Doors “People Are Strange”  
Shinedown “45” _


End file.
